High Society
by QuantamTheory
Summary: COMPLETE. Maka loves Kid but she's not sure she'll fit into his lifestyle. Pointlessly cute Valentine's Day fluff. Rated T for sexual innuendo.


In spite of their tight schedules, they spent their first Valentine's Day in New York. Easy enough to do, Maka thought, when your significant other can pop through a mirror to any location on the planet, including his family's Park Avenue triplex. She was no expert on real estate, but she knew the value of the place had to have a _lot_ of zeros in it. She was slowly getting used to the way Kid lived, but Death City was almost literally a whole world unto itself and combat skills were valued far more than social ones there.

"This is...amazing." she said quietly, looking around the foyer and into a living room big enough to hold half of her apartment, "The whole building is amazing." She felt like a provincial bumpkin who had no business being in New York at all, let alone fifteen stories above Manhattan.

"It was built in 1929, the same year the Great Depression started," Kid told her, admiring the high ceilings, "Maman bought it in 1930 at fifteen dollars a square foot so she'd have a pied-a-terre close to the park. Fifteen dollars...can you believe that? We used to have a lot of fun here when I was little."

He picked up their bags and headed for the winding staircase.

"Com'on! Let's get dressed; I'm taking you out for dinner."

Maka's apprehension grew and she twisted her ring nervously, still not used to its weight on her hand, or its significance. "Are you sure? We could stay here and I could cook. I'll bet this place has an amazing kitchen!"

Kid knew her too well to be fooled by her bright tone; turmoil was crackling over their bond despite her attempts to hide it. He dropped the bags on the stairs and came to kiss her, opening the link between them and trying to reassure her.

"Yes, it does, and we can use it to make breakfast together tomorrow. Tonight I'm taking you somewhere nice and showing you off for once."

The cream georgette dress in Maka's bag popped into her head, taunting her with its simple, girlish lines. "I don't know if I brought anything right for "somewhere nice" around here." she mumbled.

"I'm sure you brought something proper."

"Define proper."

Kid thought about it for a second.

"Something that you can climb out of a taxi in without breaking a leg?" he suggested, resting his cheek against shiny blonde hair that smelled like fresh citrus.

"That's your only suggestion? Seriously? I could get out of a taxi in _sweatpants_." She leaned against him and gave a provocative wiggle, "I could get out of a taxi in that little blue see-through nightie you like so much. I _know_ I could safely exit a taxi in the new undies I brought with me."

"Okay, let's amend the dress code to 'something you can bend over in without anything important popping out'. You're trying to distract me so we skip dinner and spend all night in bed, aren't you? "

Maka gave him a rueful grin, "Busted. But, really, can you think of a better way to celebrate Valentine's Day?"

Kid's reply was to pick her up like a sack of potatoes and haul her up the stairs with the luggage.

"Yes," he said, "First we're going to go _out_ for a lovely dinner and then we're coming back here to have sex in every room in the house. And no matter what you're wearing, or not wearing, you'll look just perfect."

Two hours later they were finishing the most elegant dinner Maka had ever had; served by a staff that knew her by face and by name before she ever stepped foot in the place. When she remarked on it, Kid shrugged and told her that snooty restaurants always did their homework.

"This is going to take some getting used to." she said thoughtfully.

"What is?"

"All of this." Maka gestured at the dining room in particular and the Manhattan skyline in general.

Kid winked at her over the rim of his coffee cup. "You'll get a handle on it. Or make it get a handle on you, rather. You'll never be one of those snobby, empty-headed society wives, for which I am eternally grateful."

"I wear combat boots and kill shit for a living! I'm never going to make a good society wife, empty-headed or not. "

"Too bad for society then, because I'm marrying you anyway." Kid's golden eyes softened in the candlelight, deepening as they reflected its glow.

"Your family is really wealthy, Kid. Wealthy and famous and powerful. I suppose most people would think I come from a well-to-do family, but we don't have mansions and penthouses all over the world. I'm just not into stuff like that."

"So you're not after me for my money." he teased, "Good to know."

Maka gave him a wry smile, "You have to deal with dignitaries, heads of state, society people. I'm a representative for your family now. I can learn etiquette, and customs, and international law and negotiating tactics, but I'm never going to be good at picking out the right dress or organizing fancy social events."

"Nobody expects you to organize formal events." Kid replied, "That's what we have a social secretary for. As for dressing and stuff, Liz knows all that stuff and she'd be more than happy to help. More help than you probably want."

He felt Maka's thoughts and feelings curl in apprehension.

" I don't want to be an embarrassment! Are you sure it'll be okay with your dad if we get married someday?"

"Of course it is! Dad adores you!" Kid exclaimed, "And you could never be an embarrassment to him, or to the organization and most definitely not to me."

"As a person, sure. He even thinks we're a cute couple. But he wasn't too happy when we formed our soul bond, was he? Are you sure he wouldn't he rather have you marry somebody from one of the Reaper families?" she asked in a small voice, "There could be a lot of political benefits from the right marriage."

"_This_ is the right marriage." Kid said firmly, "You're smartest DWMA student of our generation, a grigori soul, and a second-generation Death Scythe technician. Nobody could ask for better than that."

"Well, what about babies?" she demanded, reaching the last worry on her list, "I assume you have to have at least one to take over from you someday, and you've said it's hard for Reapers to reproduce. Is it easier with another Reaper? What if I can't get pregnant?"

Kid took her hand and looked deeply into her eyes, "First of all, I love _you_, not your ability or decision to have or not have my baby. Second, I'm not marrying some stranger simply because she might be good breeding stock."

Maka leaned in closer and sighed, "But it's important. It's part of your job, Kid. If we can't -"

He lifted the hand that wore his ring and kissed it, "You already know I'd like to have a child someday, but only if you're its mother. 'Harder' doesn't mean 'impossible'. We had to talk about birth control when we started getting serious, remember? A baby isn't as likely with me as it would be with a human guy, but it certainly can happen. And it will when we want it to." He turned her hand over and kissed her palm, "I have to confess that the idea of doing that someday is kind of a weird turn on."

She shivered when she felt his tongue brush the inside of her wrist.

_Screw convention_

"For the record, I do want to have children with you. And you're right, the idea is hot for some reason." Hidden by the long tablecloth, she kicked off her shoe and ran her foot up the inside of his leg, "But I want you all to myself for a long time."

Kid stroked the back of her hand lightly, "I share the sentiment. So, not now..." she pressed her toes against his hardening cock, "...and certainly not here. Although if you don't stop that...ahh...I'm going to have you right on top of this table, and that's probably a bad idea. You're not exactly on the menu."

"We could get arrested for that." Maka agreed breathily, "And just think of the social scandal there'd be. You know, I think I did see my name on the _dessert_ menu, but you might want to order that somewhere a little more private. Besides, that apartment is huge. If you want to do it in every room, we have a lot of space to cover." She slowly stroked her toes against his crotch again, and Kid sat bolt upright.

"Race you to the door!" he squeaked.


End file.
